Paper, First
by honeyandvodka
Summary: "You're a detective… and this is a mystery for you to solve." He raised a finger, quelling the protest they both knew was on the tip of her tongue. "Clues, Beckett. One a day. This is today's." - A Caskett anniversary story.


A/N: Thank you for the beta-read, Kylie.

* * *

**i**

**9 March 2014**

"You're staring at me," she mumbled, and he nodded, the trace of a smile on his face.

"Mmm," he agreed, reaching for her and running his fingertip across her arm. "So… what are your plans for the day?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning and pulling her pillow back over her head. "Um. I was hoping to, you know, wake up first."

"No time for that," he announced, rolling over and rummaging around in the nightstand. "Presents, first."

"Presents?" Kate blinked, poking her head out from under the pillow. "What do you mean, presents?"

"Well," he corrected himself. "Present. Singular. For now, anyway." He shuffled in the drawer dramatically, and she suppressed a smile; at this point, he was clearly delaying for effect. She groaned, sitting up and stretching, before reaching out to pinch his side, and he twisted around in response, a rectangular package in his hand. "For you," he said, holding it out to her. "Can you guess what it is?"

"A… book?"

He snorted. "Sure, Beckett. Get it in one, by all means. Don't worry about savoring the mystery. Forget about allowing each of your senses to take the gift in… don't be concerned with breathing in the scent of ink and paper, and listening to the rustle of pages beneath your fingers. No, forget about all that- and just call it." He shook his head, a feigned grimace as he spat out, "a book!" in mock disgust.

"Are you quite done?" Kate asked with a grin and a shake of her head. "Sorry? I mean- No. I mean it's a book. Clearly. And you told me it's my present, so give it to me!" She snatched it from him, a wry smile on her lips as she whispered, "please?"

"Uh-huh," he grumbled, his head bobbing from side to side in disapproval, but his eyes lit up as she tore the wrapping paper from the volume, and he couldn't suppress his grin.

"Thank you?" Beckett tried, unable to hide her confusion.

"Yes, that's what you would typically say when your fiancé gives you a gift," he beamed, and she glared at him.

"But I… have this book. I mean- why would you give me _another_ copy of Nikki Heat?"

"You had the ARC, before your old apartment blew up," he corrected. "And yeah, okay, you had a hardcover too. But I checked- and even though I'm touched that you wanted to keep all of my books after the explosion, some of them fared better than others, and your copy wasn't in very good shape."

"Ooooo-kay," she breathed. "But I'm here most of the time anyway. If I wanted to re-read it I'd read your copies. Or- I know- you could let me read the draft of _Raging Heat_!"

"Nice try," he smirked. "No, don't question it, Beckett. It's important that you have a good copy of our first book."

"Okay. Well- and thank you- but what's brought this on? What's this for?" she asked, still confused, and he grinned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing.

"That, Beckett, is for me to know, and you to work out."

"Work out?"

He chuckled. "You're a detective… and this is a mystery for you to solve." He raised a finger, quelling the protest they both knew was on the tip of her tongue. "Clues, Beckett. One a day. This is today's."

"How many are there?" she demanded.

"Five," he told her, turning on his heel and marching into the office.

"Um- but- Castle? What?" she called after him, shaking her head at the chuckle that emanated from him. Well, she figured. This was kind of sweet. Besides, it wasn't like Castle was particularly good at stringing out surprises most of the time. No, his fun-loving nature tended to mean his patience levels weren't always a prominent feature of his personality.

"You have a day off," he admonished from the office. "So don't try and solve it today. Plus- it's an actual day off, unlike… well, you know."

She nodded. Yeah. She knew, alright. Because it turned out torture was really freaking hard to forget. She shivered involuntarily. Maybe she should have taken Castle up on his offer to take that vacation in Bora Bora.

The NYPD would have given her time off, too. It turned out that when you got tortured on a simple undercover operation getting leave wasn't a problem. But when Castle had suggested flying somewhere tropical Lanie had insisted she was at risk of pneumonia. Her friend had fussed about so much that Castle had retracted his offer, declaring boarding a plane a bad idea for someone with possible lung issues.

"Is this about last week?" she asked, following him into the kitchen and smiling when she saw that Castle had situated himself in front of the coffee machine.

"The… gift? No. No, trust me, Beckett, this has been a long time in the planning. This, though?" he pointed at the cup in front of him. "Well, no, that's not really, either, because I always make you coffee."

Beckett grinned at the hint of pride bleeding into Castle's voice. "You do," she agreed.

"But I do want you to rest. And drink hot drinks. So it's kind of lucky that the first clue coincided with your day off."

"But if my day off was tomorrow, you could have given me the book then," she argued, and Castle shook his head, a smug smile on his face as he twisted the portafilter in the machine, turning from her to concentrate on making the coffee and apparently dismissing the conversation.

"No," he said, his voice even, as though they were discussing something as mundane as the most direct route to the precinct. He was overplaying his disinterest, she decided, detecting an air of mystery in spite of his feigned focus on the cups in front of him. "No, it had to be today."

**ii**

**10 March 2014**

"Oh, no- not that one," Castle said, snatching her shirt from her hands and throwing the offending item on the floor with a great show of distaste.

"I _just_ had that shirt pressed," she complained, and he shrugged.

"I think you should wear this one today," he said, his voice nonchalant and she rolled her eyes, holding her hand out for the shirt he'd pulled from a hanger.

"It's… not mine," she said, staring at an item of clothing that she _knew_ hadn't been in the closet yesterday.

"Sure it is. It's new. It's a present."

"I see." Kate narrowed her eyes at him. What on earth was he playing at? Still, she had to admit, as she pulled it over her head and inspected her reflection in the mirror, the green was flattering, and the material soft.

"It brings out your eyes," he murmured. "Plus… a light cotton shirt is perfect for today. After all, it's unseasonably warm."

"You're delusional," she told him with a glance toward the window. "Fifty degrees is not exactly balmy."

"No, but Kate, it's going to be fifty-one today."

"Good thing the precinct is well heated," she retorted.

"Fair point," he conceded. "But the thing is, this is another clue."

"I figured," she nodded. "And I'm gonna need another clue to work this out."

"Not until tomorrow," he said, dismissing the opportunity to offer anything resembling a hint. "But you'll figure the theme out eventually." He ran a hand through his hair, his forehead creasing and she smiled at his apparent discomfort. "Or- I hope you will, anyway."

"Uh-huh. So… can I guess?"

"Go ahead," he smirked, and she pursed her lips. She had nothing, and he knew it.

"You want me to… read your books, while wearing a shirt?" She glared at him, and he laughed.

"Definitely not, Beckett. No, if you're going to read my books, I want you-"

She rolled her eyes at him and cut him off with a kiss. "Fine. Don't tell me. But mark my words. I will figure this out."

She waved a finger at him in reprimand, scowling when her phone rang. A cursory glance at the screen revealed the precinct was calling and she sighed. Trying to get Castle to spill was much more appealing than the idea of going out to a crime scene.

"You won't get it," he whispered, a dare in his tone if she'd ever heard one and she cast him a look.

"I will," she insisted. "Just not… now. Now we have an actual case to solve."

"Uh-huh." He nodded, an expression of unconvincing innocence painted across his features, and she smirked, sliding a finger across the screen to answer the call.

"Beckett."

**iii**

**11 March 2014**

"So how does this work, Castle?"

"Hmm? How does what work?" he asked, poking his head around the bathroom door, and Beckett grinned at the sight of him, his hair mussed from the shower.

"Do the gifts get later each day?" she asked. "Because on Sunday, you couldn't even wait until I'd woken up to give me my present. And yesterday I was getting dressed. But today- well, I'm dressed, and waiting for you to finish fixing your hair so we can get to the precinct."

He chuckled. "Don't rush genius, Kate."

"Fine. But if your idea of today's gift is a coffee on the way into work-"

"Well. Aren't you getting greedy?" he laughed, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm just… curious," she admitted.

"Uh-huh. Well, if it's any consolation, your next gift is not too far away. You'll have it long before we make it to the coffee shop across from the precinct."

"Right…" She cast another look at him before settling down on the edge of the bed to pull her socks on and wait for him. Honestly, he was such a girl sometimes. She could be in and out of the bathroom in ten minutes if the occasion called for it, shower, hair and make-up included. Castle, meanwhile, milked every moment he could under the spray of the shower and fussing with his hair.

"I'm ready," he announced, coming back into the bedroom and taking her hand, dragging her up from the bed and literally pulling her across the apartment, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Obviously," she deadpanned, and he grinned. "But if you want me to leave the loft I need my jacket-" She pointed back toward the bedroom with her free hand, and he shrugged, his beam growing wider as he opened the closet by the front door.

"Nope. This is the jacket you're wearing today!" He released her hand, helping her shrug into the soft leather jacket and she was unable to suppress the moan that escaped as the buttery material molded itself around her.

"My God, Castle. This is… stunning."

He nodded, pleased with himself. "You look gorgeous," he murmured, reaching forward to brush a lock of her hair out of her eyes. She bit her lip, not at all sorry to be having this effect on him. It might be the third day of gifts, and maybe she'd been too busy at work yesterday to make the time to figure out his game, but she couldn't say she didn't appreciate everything he'd given her. Especially, she thought, this one.

"So, uh- your goal is to… dress me? This, and yesterday's shirt? But- wait. How does the book fit into this?" She wrinkled her nose in confusion, stepping back to admire the jacket in the full length mirror on the inside of the closet door. A rich chocolate, the drape of the material was flattering and sexy.

"No, uh-" Castle swallowed. "My aim, Beckett-" he chuckled. "I can promise you – leather or not- my aim is never to _dress_ you."

**iv**

**12 March 2014**

Okay. This was Castle she was talking about. Beckett couldn't see how ninjas or CIA agents could be involved, but there was clearly some kind of symbology going on. It had to have some kind of deeper meaning - he'd said as much, for one thing, and there was nothing he liked more than an elaborate and well done prank. Which was exactly why she'd planned the surprise party for his birthday last year; it had been a risk that had paid off tenfold.

So. Beckett needed to look at the details. Establish a timeline, perhaps. She had another few hours before she had to be in at work but maybe today she could commandeer a spare white board, look at all the big picture facts. What did she have to go on so far?

Timing was apparently important, but since her birthday was in November and Castle's was next month - and no, she didn't have anything like last year's event planned, so hopefully she hadn't set the bar too high - so it couldn't be related to either of their birthdays.

What was so important about the ninth of March? And he had five gifts… oh. Her jaw dropped as she realized. That _had _to be it. She _had_ to be right. Still, before she could make her case she had to be sure, and now it wasn't a white board she wanted; instead, she wanted to take a look at certain files from five years ago. Or, she figured, her calendar. Thank goodness she'd been able to recover all her old emails and calendar when she was reinstated to the NYPD; those records would be handy for her current purposes.

"Beckett?"

"Hey!" She blinked, shaking her head slightly. This would have to be put on hold while they made their morning coffee.

"What are you doing?" he asked, puzzlement on his face.

"I was making coffee, Castle," she retorted and he grinned.

"Yeah, but Beckett, when most people make coffee they put the cup under- just here-" he pointed- "so the coffee goes into it, instead of all over the machine and the counter."

"Fine." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe I was a little… distracted."

"Distracted? You?" He smirked. "You wouldn't be distracted by my current… challenge, would you?"

She rolled her eyes at him, snatching the dishcloth from the sink, and wiping down the coffee machine. "This is _your_ fault," she informed him. "You're distracting me, and I don't know why!" And, okay, _maybe_ she knew why, but she wasn't touching that until she was certain.

"Well, I'd really like to give you today's present now, but I'm not sure I can trust you with it," he smirked, casting an appraising glance at the counter. "I don't want you to spill coffee on it."

Kate rolled her eyes, grabbing a dish towel to dry her hands before flicking it at him. "Fine," she countered, turning back to the coffee machine and starting again, slowly and deliberately setting the cups in place.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, a distinct whine to his voice, and she threw a measured glance his way.

"Making coffee, Castle. You've made it very apparent that you're not ready to give me today's present, so unless you-"

"No!" he interrupted. "No, I'll give you the present. Just wait here-" he said, darting back into the office and she heard the soft slide of the wooden drawer open. Hmm. Well, that was easy.

He was back before she'd even reached for the coffee grounds, handing her a paper bag with reverence. "Thank you," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him before running a fingertip across the top of the bag and untying the ribbon that enclosed her gift. "Wow…" she breathed, pulling the scarf out and threading it through her hands; the bold crimson - that she might not have chosen for herself - was stunning.

"So you like the silk scarf?" he asked, a soft smile on his lips, and she wrapped it around her neck before leaning in and pressing her lips against his, closing her eyes as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently meeting her own, his hands making their way to her waist.

"Mmm," she managed. All pretense of coffee making was forgotten as he pushed her back, her rear hitting the counter. She allowed him to haul her up, his thigh nudging between her legs, her shirt riding up as he slid his hands beneath the soft material and up to her breasts, his thumb running a graceless path across her bra, over her nipple-

"Bedroom?" he breathed into her ear and she moaned in response, letting him take her barely there sound as his answer and he helped her from the counter, leading her back to the bedroom.

**v**

**13 March 2014**

"So?"

"So?" she mimicked, snuggling under the covers, intent on savoring the time they still had until the alarm went off.

"So, have you worked it out yet?"

"Um… no?"

He huffed out an exaggerated sigh. "But, _Beckett_! It's the last day! You _have_ to work it out today. Seriously! How can you not know?"

"Fine. I have… an idea. But don't laugh if I'm wrong. This has something to do with our wedding, right?"

"Well." Castle gave a half shrug. "Kind of. But only partly."

"Okay, well if it's kind of partly, you might have to spell it out for me. But it's an anniversary thing, right? And you're giving me all these gifts in advance because…" she narrowed her eyes at him; she hadn't had time to check her calendar yesterday, they'd been slammed from the moment they'd walked into the bull pen, and she wasn't willing to be wrong. "Why am I getting these anniversary gifts _before _we're married?"

Castle rolled his eyes in an attempted imitation of Kate's frustration and she shook her head, smirking at him.

"As I've pointed out before, you're my work-wife. So, with that in mind, I realized that I'd actually missed the first of our anniversaries. And, well, all of them. Until now."

"Need I remind you that our anniversary is in May?"

He shook his head, amusement in his expression, his eyes dancing. "Really, Beckett? And what, pray tell, are we celebrating in May, exactly? The first time we-"

"Well." She heaved out an exasperated breath. "When you put it like that, yeah. But still, yeah, I mean that's when we started our romantic relationship."

"Sure," he agreed. "It is. But, you know, our lives are anything but typical. So I think it's important to celebrate as often as possible, and-" he wiggled his eyebrows at her- "in as many ways as possible."

She rolled her eyes at him, but shifted forward an inch, just enough that beneath the covers her thighs were aligned with his, and as she bit her lip, he moved in turn, revealing just how ready he was to… celebrate. "Hold up," she told him, as he leaned in toward her, raising her arm and pushing back against his chest with an open palm. "If today is in celebration of our _fifth_ anniversary- how is it our _fifth_?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

He shrugged, a smug look on his face. Yeah. She was right. She was _so_ right.

"Five years since we met," she breathed, his expression all the confirmation she needed to know that she was exactly on point. "Oh. Oh, _wow_."

"Five years," he whispered back. "Five years since you dragged me out of that book launch party and completely and utterly rearranged by life…"

"Rearranged your- _Castle_! _You_ were the one who threw my entire life into disarray!"

He smiled, apparently satisfied. "I think we can both agree, Beckett, that our _partnership_-" and his voice became dangerously low as his eyes met hers- "has had any number of advantages for both of us."

Beckett laughed. This was everything she loved about Castle, right here. He made her life more fun, had done right from the beginning, no matter how much she'd denied it. "So," she teased. "If our relationship has so many advantages, shouldn't you give me my gift?"

He nodded, and from under her lowered eyelids, she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Okay," he agreed, making no move to slide away from her, or reach into his nightstand for her gift the way he had on the first morning.

"Well?" she dipped her head in frustration. "So- if- hold on, remind me. Day one. Books?"

"Year one," he corrected her. "And paper. There's a traditional gift for each year of marriage, and paper is the first."

"Okay." She nodded. She should have probably been able to work this out a little sooner, but she hadn't realized that the first gift was _paper_; she'd figured he was giving her a book. "Day- okay, _year_ two- was what? Um… because, nice as the shirt is-"

"Cotton," he informed her, the confidence coming back into his voice.

"I see. Okay, so third year- well, obviously that was leather."

"Otherwise known as sex in a jacket," he added, a satisfied smirk on his face, his voice low and dangerous.

"Year four," she said, shuffling backwards so she was sitting propped against the pillows and counting now, on her fingers. "Year four was… oh, silk, right?"

"Right."

"That scarf is… gorgeous, Castle. Just gorgeous."

He beamed, reaching out and cupped her chin in his hand.

"So…" she urged. "Five. What's five?"

"Okay. Wait here."

He pushed the covers back, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and turning to give Kate another sidelong glance before striding into the office. She heard the faint rustle of books being moved, and the clicking of the safe opening, and she frowned. The _safe_?

"Here," he announced, making his way back into the room and perching on the edge of the bed.

"Um…" Kate held her hands out. "So… can I have it?"

"Oh. Right! Yes, of course."

He handed it over almost shyly, and she wrinkled her nose. What on earth could this one be. "A wooden box…?" she joked. "Don't tell me this is some kind of casket symbology and you've bought us plots side by side."

"No," he laughed. "But what I really wanted to give you wasn't strictly wood. So, I, um, I cheated a bit. Figured if it was _housed_ in wood, then it would count."

Kate raised her eyebrows at him, sliding the lid off the box and lifting the contents out, laying them in front of her on the covers. "Paper again?"

"Paper again," he confirmed.

"Okay." She unfolded the first of the sheets, her eyes widening as she took it in, before picking up the second. Really? "The… loft? And the house at the Hamptons? But…"

He shrugged, a shy smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I was thinking… wood, you know. And then I was thinking woods, and bricks and mortar, and I know we haven't really talked about you moving in, but your stuff is all here. And when was the last time you went to your place anyway? When you got the dress, right? Have you even been back there since then? So I figured- well, why not give you some incentive? It'll all be yours when we get married anyway, but-"

"Stop talking," she managed, tucking the deeds back into the box and shoving it aside, pressing her lips to his before speaking. "I love it. I love you. I love… our loft."

"Okay. Because- only if you're sure? Because we can sell this place- hell, we can sell the Hamptons- we can buy any place you want, as long as it's _our_ home, and, Kate-"

"Shhh…." She whispered, tears forming, and she swallowed, swiping a hand across her face and smiling wryly. "I love them. _Our_ places."

"Our places," he echoed.

"So," she mused, her voice soft. "Paper, first, huh?"

"Paper first, yeah," he agreed. "Fitting, right?"

"Right."

She bit her lip, hiding the grin that was threatening to spill over. Books. Ink. Characters. Story. All on paper. Five times, so far, that Nikki and Rook had defied the odds. Five years in which she and Castle had fought and worked, pushed and pulled, and loved. Five years in which she'd straddled a line between love and hate, so very determined, at first, to hate the man fate had sent her way, until she'd tumbled over the edge and into something so very much more than she'd ever expected to have.

"I wrote you a letter," she breathed at last, the memory of another, more recent experience with paper spilling over in an unexpected surge of emotion.

"When?"

"Last- last week. When I was… undercover. I thought I was going to die… so I wanted you to know… everything. About how I feel. About how much I love you."

"Do you think… that I don't know?" Castle asked, his head cocked to the side, a strained look on his face.

"Um. I don't know," she admitted. "Because I don't, well, I don't have your words, Castle. So no, I don't know if I tell you often enough, clearly enough?"

"Oh, Kate," he managed, moving in, crashing his body against hers and pressing his lips to hers, then pulling away, his breathing uneven. "For you- everything- your actions, your whole being, tell me everything I need to know."


End file.
